


Clint, You Little Shit!

by Crazy7634



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Natasha Romanov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Can Be Read As Male or Female or Other, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-neutral Reader, Humor, Multi, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, None Of That Y/N Shit, Omega Reader, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protectiveness, Reader Lacks Self-Preservation, Reader-Insert, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author is Emotionally Constipated, You're Going To Give Her A Heart Attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-16 03:31:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16077449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazy7634/pseuds/Crazy7634
Summary: Being the younger sibling of Hawkeye, isn't always easy.Not because your older brother is an Avenger, no.But simply because he's Clint Barton, and the ass is proud of being the cheekiest little shit around.





	Clint, You Little Shit!

**Author's Note:**

> I know this isn't exactly an update on "Too Early or Too Late", but ideas wouldn't come to me until I'd finished this first.
> 
> Never thought I'd write this shit... Everyone, I apologize. And someone, please help me.
> 
> xD

 

* * *

 

“I know where to go.”

Clint and Natasha were both half-carrying, half-dragging each other through the darkness of the streets. They each had an arm wrapped around the shoulders of the other, their free hands clutching either their stomach or their side. Bleeding cuts and aching bruises littered their bodies, exhaustion evident in their bloodshot eyes and limping forms.

They had just finished a mission gone wrong, and what a shit show _that_ was.

It was meant to be an easy in-and-out; nothing more, nothing less. Meant to be done in a few hours—not a few _days_ —with them only needing to deal with criminal lords ranking quite low on SHIELD’s list. _Not_ a fucking “big fish”, government-toppling operative who was _far_ from “low” and surrounded by groups of highly-trained, who-knows-from-where agents that would kill you with no rhyme nor reason in a heartbeat.

They didn’t prepare for that kind of assignment.

It was meant to be _simple_ , not _bat-shit insane_.

Then again, the keywords there are “meant to be”.

Expecting the unexpected to occur is part of the job, falling victim to unpredictability is just an occupational hazard. Not keeping on your toes and ensuring you’re at least five steps ahead, only makes that hazard even more dangerous that it already is. But even then, mistakes can still be made, and accidents will still happen. It might not even be your fault; and one thing’s for sure, this one definitely wasn’t on them.

Long story short, people kept fucking up one after another and now extraction wouldn’t be for at least another week. ~~Fantastic.~~ It was that last sudden change of plan which led to them wandering the streets of the nearby city, looking for a motel or just _some place_ for them to lay low. They didn’t know who was a “connection” here or not, and needless to say they did not trust the outdated information they had been given for this assignment. But it wasn’t safe for them to be out, that was for sure. Which is why they were warily hobbling through the streets in the night, making their way to a place Natasha didn’t know where, yet apparently Clint did.

The redhead glanced at the archer to her left. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, “Where’s this ‘safe place’ you were talking about, again?”

“That’s the third time you’ve asked. Strike three, you’re out!” Clint grinned at her deadpan expression and patted her placatingly on the shoulder, “Don’t worry, we’re getting close!”

She sighed, “You do realize that you’ve given me that same response every single time I've asked?”

Clint chuckled until he was forced to stop with a wince, a jolt of pain arcing through his ribs, “Yeah, I know. But I’ve also been telling you not to worry, I’ve got us taken care of.”

The Russian shook her head, exasperated.

“It’s when you say not to worry that I worry the most,” the redhead’s eyes darted around, scanning the area for threats as she murmured, “When you say ‘taken care of’, I hope you don’t mean what I think you mean.”

Hawkeye rolled his eyes, “Considering you think I mean that I’m going to get us killed, no. I don’t mean what you think I mean. Besides, they can try, but we’re already here.”

They stopped moving and Natasha looked around, noticing that they were in a residential area in the city. Not exactly the most safest populated area, but not exactly a “red light district” either. This place was toeing the line between the two. She turned to Clint and saw him pointing at the building to their right, a shit-eating grin on his face. Her eyes followed where he was pointing, and saw he was gesturing to a window glowing from the light still on inside. Someone was still up at this time? She was fairly sure that it was around about two or three o’clock in the morning right now.

“So… your plan was to take us to an apartment building? What do you want to do next, split the rent?”

Clint just rolled his eyes again and began to drag a reluctant Black Widow to the door, “C’mon, you. Just get in here. It’s safe, I promise.”

“How can you be so sure?”

His grin returned at the question, “Well, you’ve always wanted to meet who I was the older brother of, right?”

 

~~~

 

[At the Same Time – With You]

 

You sat on your couch, with knives, guns and other such pieces of equipment spread out on the coffee table in front of you. You had your TV on, but whatever was playing was nothing but mindless drivel to your ears as you hummed and cleaned your weapons, being mindful of your bandaged wrist. You’d just come back from a mission yourself, and some motherfucker threw a _chair_. He could have shot his gun or thrown his knife, but NOPE. He had to throw a fucking chair.

You casually switched between humming and whistling while your eyes inspected the knife in your hands thoroughly. Seeing nothing wrong, you placed it on the table and moved to pick up the next one, only to freeze at the sound of a knock on your door.

You weren’t expecting any visitors, especially not at this hour.

Without a second thought, your hand grabbed one of the many guns on the table, eyes glued to your front door. You cautiously stalked towards it, grip tight on the weapon and finger itching to pull the trigger, ready to fire at any sign of aggression. Within a few quick and silent steps, you stood to the left of the door, the side that would leave you obscured should it open. Your hand hovered over the knob, gingerly contemplating whether to open the door or not.

Before you could decide, a voice rang out from the other side, “Hey, I know what you’re thinking and don’t you fucking shoot us! We’ve already had enough of that shit today.”

You’d know that voice anywhere.

You let out an aggravated breath, holstering the gun into the waistband of your pants. You unlocked the door and pulled it wide open, eyebrows arching at the state of your brother and the other agent with him slouching at your doorstep. Your nose twitched. _Alpha_ , you could hear your Omega hissing _._ Both of them had crossed their arms and looked like they were trying to straighten their backs, but occasionally lurched forward, grimacing.

Bluntly, you blurted, “Well, you look like shit.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence. Always so _eloquent_ with your words, aren’t you, brat?” You and Clint glared at each other silently for a moment, the redhead to the side glancing between you two with an amused smirk on her face. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he started to smile. The staring contest was broken when your older brother held out a hand, which you immediately took. He pulled you into a bro hug, laughing, “Nice to see ya, Kid! Think we can crash here for a bit?”

“Of course you can, Gramps! Just don’t break any of the shit I have, and you always can. You should know this by now.”

And with that, he blurred out of your view, sprinting to his favourite spot on your couch. You could hear his content groan from the entrance. The two of you still by the door shook your heads fondly,

“So much for being injured…”

“I swear, he’s gonna break in here one day just to steal my couch.”

At hearing another voice, the two of you turned to look at each other. Although the both of you have heard of the other through Clint, neither of you had actually physically met before. Unsure of what to say, you guys just sort of… stood there, blinking.

During the lull in the conversation, your eyes began to roam over her form, taking in her dishevelled appearance worriedly. She was favouring one leg over the other, the foot not placed fully on the ground slightly hanging in the air.

Was something sprained? Or fractured, maybe broken?

Your eyes panned upwards, darting to every cut and wound that fell into your peripheral vision. Most were just small nicks, but there were a few that were decently sized. The smaller ones were already crusted over, but the larger ones were still sluggishly oozing tiny trickles of blood. When your eyes reached her torso, they widened. She was using a hand to clutch both her other arm and her side, and despite the black of her suit, you could still see the slight sheen of blood glinting under the apartment’s fluorescent light.

Your head snapped up to face her, concern swimming in your irises. Choosing to take the initiative so that you could help treat her wounds as soon as possible ~~and before the air between you became _too_ awkward~~, you held out a hand, your name leaving your lips.

“H-Huh? I’m sorry, what was that?” she blinked, dazzling green eyes that had been focused on you losing their glazed-over look. Seems like you weren’t the only one ‘taking in the sights’.

To be honest, you knew you’d be perfectly happy just standing there and soaking up the sight of this fine alpha-

 _‘NO, NOPE. Uh-Uh. Bad me!’_ You mentally slapped your Omega’s mind out of the gutter, _‘She’s injured, gotta take care of that first.’_

Despite how hard you were crushing on her inside, you hid it all behind a mask of suave confidence that you didn’t have at all. You gave her a smile, arching an eyebrow as a small laugh left your lips. Hand still outstretched, you winked, “ _That,_ was my name. Hey, I know I’m tremendously fabulous sweetheart, but how about you shake my hand and give me your name so that I can help you with those wounds, hm?”

Once those words were uttered, it almost seemed as if they flipped a switch within her. Her lips drew into a flirtatious smirk, eyes mischievously half-lidded. Arching an eyebrow of her own, she replied, “Be careful with what you say, because this sweetheart may not be as sweet as you think, _love._ ”

A shiver crawled up your spine at the way she said “love”. And it wasn’t because you hated it.

You were so fucked…

_Hopefully literally._

Your Omega was no help at all.

 _‘NO. Think of something else! Uh…’_ internally screaming, you wracked your memories for something horrifying, _‘C-Clint drunk and humping the desk! CLINT DRUNK AND HUMPING THE DESK! CLIN- actually, that was more amusing than mentally scarring… where was I again? Oh, right!’_

Your smile transformed into a cheeky grin, and you hoped to whatever omniscient being was watching over your awkward ass that she couldn’t see your internal panic through your eyes. Thank fuck you always used suppressants and wore blockers, though. You wouldn’t put it past the Omega within you to have increased your scent during this conversation.

“I’ll keep that in mind, right next to you and your phone number.”

You wish you could slap yourself, but that’d make you look just as dumb as you already feel for saying that. She didn’t seem to think so, though. She’d blinked for a moment, as if not expecting such a cheesy response, but soon gave a brief laugh of delight. The smile on her face made your grin grow even wider. And of course, your brother chose this moment to step in.

“Ugh… It’s bad enough that I feel like shit, I don’t need to hear this shit either. Take this to your room, or something!”

Neither of you even gave it a second thought, “That was the plan.”

Clint groaned while the two of you shared a laugh. You knew having her around was going to be awesome.

 

~~~

 

Nearly a week later, after a few days of looking after the two agents, you woke up to find a piece of paper stuck to your forehead. You drowsily peeled it off, squinting to focus on the words.

_Hey Kid, it’s Clint._

_Extraction came during the night, just after I had a call in fact. As far as everyone else knows, I had a family-related emergency, had to rush out as fast as possible and couldn’t spare a second to wake her up. In reality, I noticed that you two seemed to get along, despite neither of you being very social to strangers. You need a mate, and there are very few alphas out there that I approve of, so I’m throwing you a bone. It’ll be a few more days before we’ll be able to get her outta your apartment, so go get ‘em tiger!_

_P.S: Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. ;)_

You were definitely awake now, and not looking forward to having to break the news to the redhead just in the other room. Of course your brother tried to set you up. He’s been doing it for years! How the hell did you not expect this?!

“Clint, you little shit!”

 

* * *

 

“I know what’s going on.”

It’s been a year since the day STRIKE Team: Delta crashed into your apartment in the middle of the night, and things had been going pretty well. You and your brother were talking more often, and so were you and Nat. When none of you three were on a mission, either you’d give one of them a call or they’d call you, and no matter who called who first it always ended up with all three of you chatting. Though, more often than not, Clint would be the one to join in on a conversation rather than being the one to invite; a fact that he couldn’t seem to let go of. Which led to _this_ current situation.

You were relaxing on your bed at home whilst the other two were in their assigned accommodations waiting for their respective extractions. Nat had another mission she needed to deal with while Clint was set to go back home. The moment those five words left his mouth, the hairs on the back of your neck rose and you were immediately apprehensive. You stared at your screen skeptically, not trusting the grin being showed to you. Nat seemed to share your thoughts, if the distrustful glare she was sending the other alpha through the screen was any indication.

Did she know what he was talking about? She seemed a bit peeved about it.

Simultaneously, the two of you asked, “With who?”

His grin looked like it was just a few millimetres away from splitting his face into two.

“You know who.”

That… didn’t answer any of your questions at all. It only made you feel even more wary.

You breathed out an aggravated sigh, “What the hell are you on about, Gramps?”

You swear his face should be split by now.

 

~~~

 

[At the Same Time - With Clint]

 

Clint had to bite his cheek to keep himself from laughing. You and Nat looked so nervous. Neither of you even noticed that you were both glancing at each other, no doubt hoping that the other wouldn’t catch on to what he was implying. Unfortunately for the both of you, you guys were too busy worrying about each other to realize that he wasn’t referring to just _one_ of you. His eyes twinkling with mirth, he thought back to the latest one-on-one conversations he’d had with each of you…

 

~~~

 

[Yesterday – With Natasha and Clint]

 

“For the literal, _twelfth_ time, Nat. They’re fine. Yes, I checked if they were injured and no, they weren’t. Their last mission went smoothly and they most likely aren’t picking up because they’re knocked out in their bed, not because they’re dead or bleeding out.”

His eyes and arms moved at their own accord, dispatching any hostiles coming his way while he talked with his partner through their comms. He heard her sigh, half in exasperation and half in relief.

“Yeah, yeah. I understood the first time. It’s just…”

Clint chuckled, “You just worry about my omega of a baby sibling? Oh, I’m sorry, I meant to say that you worry about _your omega_.”

He heard her breath hitch in her throat. He could just imagine her annoyed eye-twitch and frown from where he was, and he knew she could just _feel_ the cheeky smirk on his face from the other side of the facility.

She flicked a taser disk at an incoming enemy agent before continuing to speak, choosing to ignore everything he said except for the first three words, “Well, considering the last time I called them right after a mission they appeared on my screen with a red shirt, you can’t exactly blame me.”

“What’s wrong with red shirts?”

“The mission lasted for three hours, and it used to be white.”

“…To be fair, they said 62.5% of the blood wasn’t theirs.”

“That still leaves 37.5%, Clint.”

“…They’re scrappy?”

“Reckless, more like. And incredibly so.”

Firing an arrow between another agent’s eyes, Clint huffed, a small smile on his face. Alphas being all anxious and stressing over a potential mate were the funniest things to see. But having been in their shoes, he felt somewhat empathetic towards his fellow alphas… though not enough for him to keep himself from teasing them over it. Especially if they were a certain redhead.

“You seem quite high-strung about this, and they aren’t even your mate. You got something to tell me, Nat?”

“No.”

The response sounded so resolute, might’ve believed it. Yet it also came so quickly, that there was no chance that even the most oblivious person would miss that it was a lie.

“No? Nothing? So, you’re not a pining alpha, huh… alright, then is it _because_ they’re an omega in this kind of business that you’re so worried? They’re not gonna like that, you know.”

“Fuck no!”

He had to hold back a laugh. She was pining so hard, and she didn’t even realize it. Then again, you were the same when it came to her, but at least you’d already acknowledged it right in front of him. He didn’t even need to prompt you to spill, you just did. Now if only the Russian was just as easy to crack...

“Then what’s going on with you? Is this because they can’t seem to have a mission without _something_ going wrong? Or about that time that they suddenly went dark for two weeks and the next time we managed to reach them they were in intensive care? Or maybe it’s because of that one beta neighbour they got that keeps wanting to—in his own words— ‘court’ Kid?”

Clint was having a _very_ difficult time trying not to burst out into laughter. At every question he asked, he could hear the screams on her end grow more and more shrill as the sound of breaking bones became more frequent. When he asked the very last one, he could’ve sworn he’d heard a growl of “ _My_ omega”, followed by the shrillest scream and the loudest crack.

He’d never heard a grown man imitate the shriek of a prepubescent girl so accurately before.

Knowing his partner needed just one more tiny push, he continued to poke the bear, “Is it one of those? Is it? You’re not answering me. Nat? Hey, Nat! You still there? Nat?”

He beamed when she finally snapped. He felt a bit guilty for prodding so much, but he just wanted to pierce through the thick fog of stubbornness clouding your minds. The both of you needed the push.

“Look, it’s not because they’re an omega or because I doubt their skills or whatever else you come up with, alright? I know they can handle themselves out there. Hell, I’ve sparred with them before. I know for _certain_ that they know what they’re doing. I just…” Nat took a deep breath, “…I just worry. I don’t know why, but I just _do_.”

“Hah, I know how that feels. It’s how I always feel whenever I leave home. I know they’re safe, and no one should know about them but us, but I worry anyway.” Clint’s hand ghosted over his pocket, wishing he could pull out the picture stored inside. He let out a slow breath, “Besides, are you sure you don’t know why? Maybe you do, but you just don’t want to acknowledge it.”

“…” Natasha didn’t reply for some time. Clint knew there weren’t any problems with her comms, he could still hear her kicking ass. After a few minutes, she finally said, “Let’s get this mission over and done with.”

Clint bit back a groan. It wasn’t _exactly_   what he had wanted, but he knew she’d at least be thinking about it.

Now, he just needed to deal with _you_.

 

~~~

 

[Earlier – With You]

“How’s Nat doing?”

“Good, good…”

Your feet padded against your apartment’s carpeted floor, your brother’s face shining on the tablet held in your right hand whilst your left precariously balanced a stack of snacks, candy and drinks. Carefully, you placed the tower on the miniature table in front of you, placing the stack with the rest of its brothers and sisters.

“Why’d you call me again?” You asked absentmindedly, smiling giddily at the small mountain of food now on your coffee table. You flopped down onto your couch, finally turning to face your older sibling, “I thought you were meant to still be out on a mission today?”

“I am.”

“So…?” You drawled, dragging out the word as you reached forward to grab a chip.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

That made you pause. Your mouth was open, ready to receive the chip, only for you to drop it at Clint’s words.

 _‘That doesn’t sound good… he’s got his ‘_ Big Brother Voice _™’ on, too.’_

Forgetting the chip, you leaned back into the cushions behind you, propping your feet up onto the coffee table. Brows furrowed, you muttered softly, “…Those are never good words, especially when you say ‘em like that. What’s going on?”

“It’s about Nat.”

That made you even more concerned. At the mention of the redheaded alpha, you quickly sat up straight, your feet flinging themselves off of the wooden table and crushing the chip on the floor when they set themselves down. You didn’t even notice, more focused on Clint’s serious face.

“What is it?”

A beat of tense silence passed, before Clint’s façade of seriousness crumbled away to show his pleading face.

“ _Please_. Just check up with Nat or something before and after a mission- hell, if you can, check up with her while you’re _in the middle_ of one! PLEASE, she’s driving me insane!”

You blinked, not expecting his panicked voice and the crazed twitching of his eye. Your voice unsure, you questioned, “What brought this on, Gramps?”

You didn’t think it was possible, but the twitching of his eye became even more erratic.

“Kid, I swear she’s always asking after you practically every _minute_ whenever you clock out of contact for a mission. It doesn’t help that you usually come back from them with a new scar or two. Her worrying had been bad enough as it was, but it only got worse when you pulled that two-week disappearing shtick a couple months ago. You know, when you were meant to have only been gone for three days tops?!”

At least you had the decency to look guilty for that debacle. When they first burst into your hospital room, it had only been an hour since you first woke up. They looked so dishevelled and distraught then… they even checked up on you daily for a month straight after that. Unfortunately, along with that guilt, came a pleased purr from your inner Omega. It was happy to hear that your alpha was worried about you.

_‘Dude, cool it! She’s not our alpha or our mate. Get that in your head!’_

You could’ve sworn your Omega huffed at you with as much sass as it could muster before curling in on itself to sleep.

“Uh… Clint?”

“What?”

“Here’s the thing. I… um… already do?” You scratched the back of your head sheepishly, “She made me promise to check up with her a long while ago, ‘cause of that disappearing thing. Even if it was just a quick message that said ‘Hi’, it'd do. As long as she had proof that I was still alive. Or somewhat, at least.”

Your brother stared at you incredulously, jaw hanging in the air. Jolting out of his disbelief, he yelled hysterically, “Then why does she keep asking me for updates on you?!”

You forced a shrug, looking at anything else other than Clint, “I dunno…”

“Kid.”

“Gramps.”

_‘Please leave it be… Please leave it be!’_

“ _KID._ ”

He didn’t leave it be.

You winced, hesitantly whispering, “There… _may_ have been certain instances where I said I was fine when I wasn’t. And some of those instances _may_ have been where _you_ were aware of my state while she _wasn’t_ , which is _possibly_   why she currently believes your updates more than mine. Uh… whoops?”

Clint looked like he was one second away from tearing out his own hair.

“KID!”

“What?! You think I don’t realize just how much she worries? That I don’t see the way she looks at me when I say I gotta go out for an assignment? That I don’t notice the half-angry, half-sad frown she gets when she sees me injured? I don’t like worrying her, Clint! Seeing Nat distressed hurts, even more so if it’s ‘cause of me!”

"..."

Realizing exactly what you’d just confessed to your brother, you ended the video chat. You laid back on to your couch, covering your eyes with your arm, moaning, “Fuuuck.”

At the sight of the words “Call Ended”, Clint rubbed his hand against his face, breathing out through clenched teeth.

“Well, that didn’t go the way I wanted it to… or did it?”

 

~~~

 

[Now – With Clint]

 

“One of you is hiding something from the other~”

He practically _sang_ that last word. His face held so much glee at your faces, that you personally wanted to wipe that smirk off of his mug.

“…”

“…”

You didn’t dare to spare a glance towards Nat’s portion of the screen, in case her eyes were set on you. What you didn’t know was that she was doing the same and was focusing on glaring at Clint as well.

“You wanna know what it is~?” if either of you had heat vision, he knew that he’d somehow be burnt to a crisp by now considering the heat of your stares, “I’ll spill, it’s-”

He cackled when both of you reached up to slam your laptop lids closed, ending your calls at the same time.

“Payback, you poor, poor, bull-headed pups. Maybe now you’ll stop using me as a messenger and actually _talk_!”

 

_~~~_

 

[At the Same Time - With You and Nat]

 

Though currently at opposite sides of the world, the two of you simultaneously buried your heads in your hands, regretting ever telling him anything.

“Clint, you little shit!”

 

* * *

 

[The Call – With Clint]

 

“I know who to call.”

He fished out his phone from his pocket, your nickname “Kid Barton” flashing brightly on his screen as he dialled you.

“Who is-”

Clint’s phone began ringing loudly.

“Sh!”

Your brother looked over his shoulder, double-checking that Natasha was still pre-occupied with her own thoughts and wasn’t paying attention to either of them. After three rings, you picked up.

_“Gramps, what the hell?! I told you two I’ve got a mission!”_

Tony opened his mouth to speak, but a quick look from Clint had Bruce jumping to cover the Stark’s mouth. Your brother put a hand up, whispering for them to wait. The scientists looked to each other for answers, but neither had a clue as to what he was on about. Bruce removed his hand from Tony’s face, the two staring curiously at his phone. This was the first time they’d ever heard of you.

“Yeah, well we aren’t exactly all hunky-dory over here, Kid. We’ve got a big problem.”

He heard a couple of grunts being picked up by your phone’s mic. Six gunshots later, you finally managed to reply, _“Is it more important than trying not to die?”_

“We _are_ trying not to die.”

 _“What’s- FUCK! You bitch, that hurt!”_ The three of them heard a gunshot, followed by a body falling to the floor. They heard you take a few steps, shooting three more times before muttering, _“Damn… what waste of bullets, but it was so worth it. My fucking arm will be annoying to deal with ‘cause of ‘em. Ahem, anyway, what’s going on? Why you calling me of all people if it’s a life or death situation?”_

“Well… it’s Nat.”

He snapped his fingers, dragging Bruce and Tony’s attentions from you to him. He placed his palm over his phone’s mic, mouthing “Wait for my signal. Then, start panicking”. They wanted to ask the questions currently swarming their minds, but Clint was already looking back at his phone. It was silent. No grunts, no gunshots or footsteps.

 _“…What_ about _Nat? Clint, stop fucking around and tell me what’s going on.”_

Immediately, he pointed a finger to the other males beside him, nodding furiously for them to start talking. Tony jumped at the chance to both fuck with someone and be loud at the same time.

“Clint! Hurry up, it’s an all-hands-on-deck situation over there. Whoever you’re calling, you better fill them in fast, I don’t know how much time we got ‘till she starts going berserk again!”

_“WHAT?!”_

Hearing the panic in your voice, Bruce glared at Tony and Clint, angrily whispering, “ _Guys!”_

Tony moved to put an arm around his Science Bro’s shoulders, whispering back, “It’s true, though. It’s why we need them here as fast as possible, preferably before Terminator gets back with Steve and possibly views her as a threat to his Capsicle of an omega.”

“Shit! That’s my cue to leave. Sorry Kid, got no more time to talk. Just get here as fast as possible, _please._ ”

_“Wait-”_

He hung up, his phone’s screen turning black. A second later, your nickname appeared once more.

You were calling him back.

He shut his phone off.

~~~

 

[The Call – With You]

“Wait- Clint? CLINT?!”

You tore your phone away from your head, mouth gaping in disbelief at the sight of ‘Call Ended’ flashing on your screen.

_‘Did he just hang up on me?!’_

You tried calling him…

Call denied.

You tried again…

Straight to voicemail.

_‘That- no, no. Calm down. Calm. Down.’_

Slowing your palpitating heart was easier said that done, and it certainly didn’t help that your Omega kept screeching in your ear about your alpha being in distress. You’d correct it, but you were too busy with making plans on how to get to the Avengers’ tower. You frantically scrolled through your contacts, hurrying your way through the illegal research facility you were roaming in, absentmindedly shooting anyone trying to get in your way. Finally spotting the one name you were after, as well as feeling the bullet wound in your arm flaring, you paused mid-step.

 _‘Shit, that stings!’_ Seeing a scarf on a fallen enemy agent nearby, you yanked it off and sloppily tied it around your bleeding arm, _‘This mission shouldn't take much to finish, I just need a little while longer. If I call now, he should be ready to pick me up by the time I’m done. I’ll take care of this damn thing properly later. Right now, getting to Clint and Nat is first priority.’_

You tapped on the green symbol, your ride picking up within the first ring.

_“Hey, if it ain’t the Baby Bird. What’s up? Finally taking up my offer about being my mate?”_

“Not now, Marcus. I’m here to cash in that favour.”

His joking tone disappeared at the sound of your grave one, _“What do you need me for?”_

“A ride.”

_“Done. Send me your coordinates, I’ll get there as soon as I can.”_

 

~~~

 

[About Ten Minutes Before the Call – With Clint]

 

“Wait- could you say that again?”

Clint had just taken his first step in the lab after being called down by Tony and Bruce, when they fired off the question. He wasn’t sure he heard it right.

Tony grumbled, massaging his eyelids in his stress, “Does Red Riding Hood have a mate or not?”

It had been three, nearing four, years since he’d introduced you two to each other. In all those years, you’d doted and worried over each other constantly as if you were already mated, yet neither of you did any more than skirt and dance around the issue. There were times where he wanted to leave a conversation between the three of you so bad, unsure whether he either needed an insulin shot for the sugar-sweetness or a knife to cut the sexual tension with. But that wasn’t important right now.

What was important, was the fact that he was presently staring at a restless Stark and guilty-looking Banner while a certain Russian alpha was pacing anxiously behind them. He’d already caught a whiff of her anger the moment he stepped through the door and knew that this most likely wouldn’t end well. He quickly pulled them out of the lab, making sure that although Nat was still in sight through the glass doors, she couldn’t hear a word they said.

Bruce was nervous, cautious. He occasionally looked over his shoulder, his hands flittering around as he attempted to distract himself from his rising heartbeat. No one could blame the beta. No sane person of any presentation would want to be near an agitated alpha.

Tony wasn’t faring any better. Being another alpha himself, standing in the presence of the upset Black Widow made his hackles stand on end; especially since she couldn’t control her scent at the moment. He could tell _exactly_ how short her fuse was. Packmates they may be, it didn’t change the fact that a frustrated alpha can quickly turn into a violent one. Tony's entire body was tensed, his arms were crossed over his chest as he leaned back against a wall, a foot ready to push off of said surface. Bruce may have been facing Clint, but Tony was facing Bruce.

It was subtle, but Clint knew he did this to keep an eye on the door, his Science Bro, and Natasha at the same time. The genius’ nerves were fried, which he presumed was due to whatever had happened before he got here, leading to the messy state of the lab as well as his partner’s anxious mood.

“Not exactly, but I got someone in mind who could fill that position. But before I call them, I need to know what the hell happened here. If it’s too dangerous, having them come over won’t end well. For anybody.”

The scientists shared a look of confusion, attempting to communicate with each other silently until Tony’s lips thinned into a hard line. He nodded at Bruce, the brown-haired man grabbing a small vial out of his lab coat’s pocket and passing it to the other assassin in the team. Clint’s eyebrows drew together as he reached forward to take the glass container, reading the marker-made writing on its surface: “Batch 3, Attempt 27. Fail.”

He looked at them questioningly, “What’s this?”

Tony sniffed, eyes tracking Natasha’s every move, “That, Barton, would be one of our not-so-successful attempts at making a calming serum for the Other Guy. It’s also the reason why Romanoff over there is so high-strung.”

“If it’s meant to be a calming serum, then why the hell is she like _that_?”

Stark rolled his eyes, “Hence why it’s a not-so-successful attempt. To keep this short and simple, let’s just say that something went horribly wrong and apparently it now has the opposite effect of what it was meant to have. Then, to make matters worse, the stuff spilled and got in the air. Fortunately Bruce and I already had masks in case something like this happened, which is why we aren’t dealing with a Code Green. _Un_ fortunately, Itsy Bitsy Spider over there got into the lab before we could give the order to quarantine it while the fumes were being safely taken care of. Leading us to… well, now.”

“Okay…” Clint massaged his temples, already feeling a migraine coming along, “So, why did you call me over to help?”

Bruce was the one to talk now, fingers fiddling with each other to distract himself from the tension in the air.

“While she was busy trashing the room when she first got the serum in her system, we had FRIDAY scan her for the cause of sudden aggression. Which is also how we learnt that instead of making a mixture that would essentially _sedate_ anger, we created something that… well, stimulated more than just said emotion. Her fight or flight instinct’s been shot, which is mainly why she is experiencing increased anxiety, extreme unease and heavy frustration. Her senses have been heightened, as shown by her twitching ears and nostrils...” Bruce then stepped to stand beside the agent, placing a hand on his shoulder as he pointed at the antsy Avenger through the glass, “Clint, see her eyes?”

The archer squinted to peer at Nat, following the scientist’s finger, “Yeah. I see ‘em. They’re moving around like she’s expecting to be ambushed or something.”

“That’s because she is. Her protective instinct is through the roof at this point and she’s itching to beat down whatever she views as a threat. Which, at the moment, could even be say... a stationary metal table that her foot grazed against?”

_‘That explains the fucked lab...’_

Clint shook his head, “Still doesn’t explain why I’m here or why you asked me if she had a mate the moment I stepped through the door.”

Tony pushed himself off of the wall, moving to stand beside Clint and carefully watched the still-pacing Natasha alongside them.

“Basically, the stuff we accidentally made triggered her Alpha and now she’s a raging bag of rut, just without the horniness.”

“Tony!”

The man in question only shrugged at Bruce’s indignant call of his name. “What? It’s true. You can’t deny it.”

“I suppose not,” Bruce sighed, taking off his glasses to clean their lenses in his unease, "Still, couldn't you have been less… straightforward, about it?"

Tony waved a hand in the air nonchalantly, “Anyway! We tried to calm her down ourselves back when she stared flipping tables, but she didn’t seem to recognize our voices. Luckily for us, the stuff wasn’t fully in her system yet and she still had enough of herself in there to notice our scents. If she hadn’t registered us as packmates, I swear she would have torn our heads off. She’s as primal as an alpha in rut can be, which means this situation can go highly volatile very fast should she come in contact with the wrong person or scent. This leaves us with one option. The only way we can calm her down right now, would be to get her mate over here. She’s as secretive as they come, so the only person who could know if she even has one and where or who they may be, would be you.

His head then swivelled around to face the archer, “You got your explanation, now it’s your turn. You said you had someone in mind. Who are they?”

 

~~~

 

[Hours Later – With You]

 

Strapping your mission pack securely around your torso, you grimaced in pain when it agitated your injuries. Giving Marcus a nod in thanks, you quickly jumped out of the helicopter as it flew over Avengers Tower, landing on its rooftop with a roll and further disturbing your wounds. Ignoring the pain, you rushed to the rooftop door, surprised that it opened despite the secure lock on its knob.

“I presume you must be Agent Barton’s sibling?”

If Clint hadn’t told you about Tony’s AI, you probably would’ve shit your pants at suddenly hearing a female voice coming from the walls. You opened your mouth to respond, only for you to experience a sudden surge in vertigo. You felt agonizing pain throughout your entire upper body and noticed blood beginning to trickle out of your arm again. Your vision began to blur, and you had a feeling it might’ve been because of blood loss.

_'Fuck, I guess I should’ve landed a bit more sensibly. Gah, got no time for that right now; I have to find Nat and Clint!’_

Shoving your way through the cloudiness of your thoughts, you shakily replied, “Uh, yeah. That- That’d be me. Could you take me to Nat, please?”

“You appear to be hurt. My scanners say that you are in dire need of medical attention. Perhaps I should lead you to the infirmary first?”

You shook your head negatively, “Nah, no time. I’m fine. Just get me to Nat and my brother.”

“Very well…”

A green line began to glow on the floor, leading down the rooftop stairwell and into a hallway down below.

“Uh…”

“Please follow the lights.”

“Um… sure, thanks!”

Eyes scanning your surroundings, you made your way through the unfamiliar interior of the famous building, occasionally darting your focus to the lights in case you made a wrong turn. The only thing you could hear were your frantic footsteps, and that was ominous to you. The silence almost felt as if it was a foreshadowing calm before the storm.

“Hey, uh… FRIDAY, right?”

“Yes. Is something the matter? Do you wish for me to call for Agent Barton?”

“Uh, nah. Not really, but… I came here after I receiving a panicked call from my brother, all I understood from it was that he was requesting aid. Do you know what it had been for?”

“Yes. Agent Barton’s call had been placed shortly after the time Boss called for his presence. Agent Romanoff had been exposed to the fumes of a failed experiment in the lab, and because of such began to act erratically.”

“Is she alright?!”

“…Yes. The chemicals have not put her life in danger, but at the moment she is not exactly herself. The other Avengers are currently handling her as we speak.”

You promptly increased your pace, almost drifting around the corners of the building, “These lights, they’ll take me to them right?”

“Not necessarily.”

That made you screech to a halt, almost slipping on the tile floor as you forced yourself to skid to a stop. You stood there, panting, staring at the ceiling like a madman, “Then where the hell am I going?!”

“Agent Barton has instructed for you to be led to Agent Romanoff’s floor.”

“WHAT? What’s he expecting me to do there?!”

“Wait.”

“Screw that! Can you connect me to him right now?”

“Please hold.”

You moved to bury your head in your hands, only to hiss in pain when your right arm reminded you of its bleeding state. You turned to face it, grimacing at its appearance. It still had that scarf wrapped around it, but it wasn’t doing much to staunch the bleeding. You placed your left hand over it, placing pressure on the wound. You winced. Not just because of the burning feeling of agony, but because of the damp, squelching condition of the blood-soaked cloth. It _dripped_ blood when you squeezed it.

_‘That’s… not good.’_

You could hear your Omega whining in your head, for both you and Nat. You felt it give you a mental nuzzle, in an effort to comfort you.

_‘It’s alright, I’ll be fine. Nat will be, too. Just take a nap or something, anything to get your mind off of this, yeah?’_

Its wolf-like figure shook its head. It wouldn’t rest until it was sure you were safe.

_‘It’s okay, I- what the…?’_

You sniffed the air, scenting a mixture of cocoa, peppermint and cinnamon. It was your scent. Yet… not? Just underneath those elements was the gruff tang of burning copper. _Distress_. Your eyes widened in realization, understanding what was happening. Your Omega was sending out distress pheromones.

_‘Shit! No, no! I told you, I’m fine. You don’t gotta call for help, everything’s gonna be alright-’_

Your pleading with your Omega was interrupted when Clint’s voice and the sounds of a skirmish crackled over the speakers.

_“Kid? Kid, You there? We need you to get to Nat’s floor, now!”_

“Fucking- Gramps, what is going on?! FRIDAY told me she was told to bring me there, but that’s not where you guys are!”

_“I know, I KNOW! But we’re- BUCKY! Steve, control your mate!”_

You heard a frustrated growl and could faintly hear Captain America’s voice in the background, yelling, _“I’m TRYING, how about_ you _control your PARTNER!”_

_“I CAN’T, I’m trying to get someone who CAN!”_

“Clint, tell me what’s going on right NOW!”

_“Look, Kid. We’re handling the situation with Nat right now, but I didn’t call you for nothing. We got a plan, we need your help for it, but I need you to trust us. You have to go to her floor, the level where her room is located, you’ll be safe there for now.”_

“I-”

_“FRIDAY, END CALL!”_

“But-!”

Click. Your line of communication with Clint was severed.

You tried to call his cell.

Still off.

Fuck.

“I guess I’m going to have to do what that idiot said.”

You continued to run, following the glowing line of LEDs, hand still clutching your arm. Your mind was going a mile a minute. What the hell was going on? Why didn’t he have time to explain? Who the hell were they fighting?!

A hiss slipped through your teeth, your grip on your arm tightening when a stab of white-hot agony made you stumble. The pain was getting more and more unbearable at every moment that passed. You shook your head, trying to distract yourself by focusing on appeasing the panicking Omega in your mind instead.

_‘It’s okay, it’s… it’s gonna be fine.’_

You’d been repeating those words over and over again for a while now. At this point, you weren’t sure if you were reassuring your Omega, or you.

_‘I… how long have I been running?’_

You weren’t quite sure how much time had passed, but at least you knew you were getting closer. You could actually hear the Avengers’ voices now. Steadily, they were growing louder and louder… until finally, the only thing that separated you from them was a door.

You shoved yourself through it and into an open area, crashing into… _something_. Was it a wall? Or a piece of furniture? You didn't know. At this point, your mind was reeling; you felt far too faint to properly grasp the full gravity of your present circumstances. All you knew was that you were in pain. You crumpled to the floor, back against the wall and arm tucked into your body. You vaguely felt your Omega releasing your scent of distress, crying for help.

“Shit, that hurt…”

The voices stopped. The silence prompted you to look up, and were met with an amusing sight. Clint was sprawled out on the floor, limbs tangled with Bruce’s. Hilariously, Captain America and the Winter Soldier were each holding on to one of Nat’s legs while the great Tony Stark hung on to her back like a koala.

You chuckled and sent them a shaky smile, shifting your bloody arm out of their sight and waving at them with your left hand.

“Hey, what’s up?”

You didn’t receive a reply. They were too busy staring at your hand. Mind full of cotton, you blearily switched your gaze from them to our raised limb, a look of understanding appearing on your face when you saw what they were staring at. You waved at them with your _left_ hand, the one you were using to ~~horribly attempting to~~  keep your arm from bleeding.

“Oh… right. Uh, it’s ketchup?”

Your feeble excuse seemed to spark them back to life. Clint, Bucky and Tony appeared in front of you in a blur, a first-aid kit in Clint’s hands. They were firing off question after question, none of which managed to pass through the fogginess of your thoughts. You vaguely heard a territorial snarl ripping its way through the air, one that made your Omega purr.

You felt yourself being lifted up in a pair of very comfortable arms. You blinked, trying to clear your vision, but couldn’t see anything more than a fuzzy image of fiery red. Your head flopped to the side, and for a brief moment, your vision cleared. All you saw was your older brother beaming at you mischievously.

“Clint… you little…”

Then everything went black.

 

~~~

 

[Hours Later – With You]

 

Your peaceful rest was disturbed by shrill ringing, one that you groggily recognized to be your phone's alarm. Lazily, your left arm flew in the air, slapping at either wood or absolutely nothing as it attempted to reach your phone. After about ten tries and an accidental facepalm, you finally got it.

Pressing a button, you recoiled slightly when the brightness of the screen blinded you. Taking a second to blink away the spots in your vision, you skimmed over the glowing message, stopping when you saw the only two words you needed to see:

New mission.

"Hah, knew it.”

You tried to get up, but a weight on your stomach kept you down. Furrowing your brow in confusion, you attempted to spring up again, only to hear a low growl and felt the mysterious mass increase its weight and pull you closer to something in the dark.

“Stop moving.”

 _That_ was a voice you could recognize from anywhere. By now, you knew it just as well as you knew your brother’s.

“Nat?”

“Hmph.”

Yep, it was Nat.

“Could you let go?”

“No.”

Uh-oh.

“I have to go.”

“…Where?”

And this was the difficult part. Nervously you reached up to rub your upper right arm and was surprised to feel the coarse texture of bandages.

Shit. The bullet wound.

That was only going to make things even _more_ complicated.

You cursed the agent that shot you.

_‘I should have wasted more than just three…’_

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you felt the alpha to your right shift in the bed, which you assumed belonged to her. You could feel her expectant stare boring into your skull.

Damn. She knew what you were going to say, and she was waiting for you to say it.

“Where do you need to go?”

You sighed. Time to bite the bullet.

“I have a mission.”

Her response was instantaneous.

“No.”

Of course. Fucking hell…

“Nat-”

“No.”

Apparently, she’d had enough of the conversation. Instead of letting you continue to attempt reasoning with her, she wrapped her arms around you tighter, caging you against her body. You kept protesting, insisting that you needed to leave. She ignored you. Then, your phone started to ring.

_'Please don’t be who I think it is… PLEASE don’t be who I think it is.’_

It was.

“Boss-Man” was shining on your screen, taunting you.

“Shit.”

You felt Nat move again.

“Who is it?”

It was no use lying to her, she was literally looking over your shoulder right now.

“My boss. Gotta take it.”

“Nope!”

She reached over your torso, snatching your phone out of your hands before throwing it to who knows where. It was too dark for you to see anything, but you definitely heard a thunk when your phone collided with the ground.

“Nat!”

You got a fake snore in response.

You tried to lift your hands to your face, and found that your right arm was immobile due to it being gently trapped between your side and Nat’s front. Looks like only half of your face could be buried in your palms.

You stayed silent, laying in the darkness, when you were jerked out of your head by Clint’s voice playing through FRIDAY’s speakers.

_“Heeeey, Kid! Having fun?”_

Right, Gramps! Maybe he could help you out?

“Gramps, thank fuck you’re here. Couldja get Nat to let go? I gotta go for a mission!”

You heard him hum. And not _hum_ hum, but _fake_ hum. You were screwed.

_“A mission? But you just got back from one!”_

“I know, but-”

 _“And we didn’t even get to spend time together, yet! The last time I saw you, you were_ bleeding out on the floor. _Not very fun.”_

You were _so_ screwed.

“I know, I KNOW! But I’ll be safer this time, I promise. Just help me out here!”

_“No can do. See, Nat’s kinda—I'm quoting Tony here—i_ _n a literal rut, just without the horniness. And I value living too much to risk my life trying to separate a rutting alpha from their precious widdle omega.”_

As if on cue, your nose twitched as you belatedly registered the fragrance drowning the air. Sandalwood, vanilla and roses. _Nat’s scent_ , your Omega purred. You also noticed the rising hints of honey and coffee. Protectiveness and possessiveness respectively.

Again, shit.

 _“Hey, maybe now you’ll start trying to learn how_ not  _to get injured all the damn time!”_

No, not really. You’re actually really fucking comfortable right now. It just makes you want to get injured more often. Even your damn Omega is in agreement!

_‘Fuck, this is bad…’_

“Gramps, wait!”

_“See ya later, Kid! Remember, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”_

“Clint, come back you piece'a shit!”

 

~~~

 

[In the Future – With You and Nat]

 

You grinned at the awed Cooper and Lila sitting on the floor in front of you, “And that, kids, is how I met your Auntie Nat.”

Natasha rolled her eyes from her perch beside you, an open book in her hands. She poked your side, earning her a wince and a hiss of pain from you.

“Mm hm, yet after all these years you still haven’t learned how not to end up a bloody mess.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Laura poke her head into the living room, narrowing her eyes at you in suspicion, “Have you taken the prescriptions the doctor set for your side?”

“Uh… yes?”

She didn’t believe you for a second. The next thing you knew, you were running around the front yard, the mother-of-two hot on your heels.

“KID, get back here you little shit!”

Nat shook her head fondly, covering both Cooper and Lila’s ears as they watched their mother comically chase you with a bottle of liquid medicine, waving a spoon in the air like a sword.

“I swear, Laura and I look after _four_ children here.”

Clint, just as covered in bandages as you were, came up behind her, kneeling down to hug his daughter.

“Who’s the fourth?”

“Do the math.”

 

* * *

**[Bonus]**

 

[After the Call – With Clint]

“Clint… what was that?!”

Bruce stared at Clint as if he was insane, the archer’s smug grin not faltering in the slightest.

“I made ‘em panic.”

Somehow, Bruce’s gaze seemed even more incredulous than before, “But _why_?!”

“So they’d get here faster.”

Tony just snickered, patting Bruce on the shoulder as he turned to address Clint.

“I have no problem with making whoever that was shit their pants, but I’m curious. Who _was_ that, anyway?”

“Her mate.”

The billionaire’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, “Hang on, she really does have one?”

Clint shrugged, “Well, technically they’re not mates _yet_. But if both of them just stopped being so stubborn, then they’d have mated a long while ago. Then again, apparently being bull-headed runs in Nat’s family line just as strongly as it does in the Barton family line.”

“Yep- Hang on, did you just say _your_ family line?”

Your brother chuckled at Tony’s incredulous tone, only to freeze when he spotted Nat’s stare set on their forms. She was heading out of the lab, and she did _not_ look happy.

“Fuck… hold that thought, we gotta run distraction first,” he pointed to the lab’s glass doors, the other two paling at the sight of Natasha, “FRIDAY, let us know when my kid sibling gets here.”

Slowly walking back into the lab, still under the female alpha’s scrutinizing stare, Bruce murmured, “Be honest. On a scale of one to ten, with one being alive and ten being dead, how unlikely are we going to be able to survive this?”

“Ten. And that’s without the serum or anything else setting her off.”

As if they'd been summoned by his words, Bucky and Steve walked out of the elevator laughing jovially, bags of food in their hands. Spotting three of their packmates, Steve waved, “Hey guys, what’s up?”

Lifting the bags in his hands, Bucky grinned at the Science Bros, “You two rarely leave this place, thought you could use some food in your system.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

Bucky frowned at their lack of response, finally noticing their pale complexions and the fear in their eyes, “Hey, you guys alright?”

Still no answer.

Spotting movement in his peripheral vision, he glanced over the petrified trio’s shoulders and locked eyes with the furious Black Widow.

“Why is Natasha glaring at me like that?”

Clint, finally snapping out of his stupor, groaned.

“Oh, _joy._ ”

~~~

 

[Earlier, While You Were Running – With Clint]

 

Clint watched as Steve tackled Bucky into the ground, breaking his alpha out of his fury with a croon. He exhaled a breath of relief, before remembering that he was still on a call with you.

He winced at your use of his actual name. You rarely, if ever, did that nowadays. He knew you were being serious.

“Look, Kid. We’re handling the situation with Nat right now, but I didn’t call you for nothing. We got a plan. We need your help, and I need you to trust us. You have to go to her floor, the level where her room is located, you’ll be safe there for now.”

_“I-”_

“FRIDAY, END CALL!”

Everyone in the room turned to face Clint at his bellow. Even Bucky, who was at the moment being sat on by Steve, and Nat, who had been preoccupied with dodging Tony’s repulsors.

_“But-!”_

And with that, the call ended with a definite click, and everything fell into silence. You were so going to kill him if everything doesn't go well.

Nat, who had a foot on a fallen Tony’s back and was pulling his right arm behind him, twisted around to speak to a pale and speechless Clint.

“That voice… omega?”

Her dazed question snapped Clint out of his haze. The hand behind his back desperately pointed to the elevator, gesturing for the others to block it, all the while the archer grimaced as he hesitantly replied, “N-No…?”

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, a snarl rumbling low in her throat. The sound became even more fierce when she saw the others attempting to subtly make their way to the elevator.

It _was_ you.

And they were trying to keep you from her.

She could hear her Alpha roaring indignantly. It was livid. And frankly, so was she.

Within a second she shoved Tony into the floor, dodged Clint’s arrow, slid between the legs of the two Super Soldiers and tied their ankles together while she hopped into the elevator just as Bruce walked out of it. Before anyone could do anything, she was already on her way up.

Everyone just stood there for a moment, unsure of what exactly just happened. Then, Clint’s face broke out into a grin.

“Well, that went just as I expected it to go!”

Hearing an exaggerated cough, he spun around to look at Steve. The blonde had an annoyed expression on his face as he and Bucky helped each other up, which was difficult considering their bound legs.

Using his left arm, Bucky ripped the wires off of his and his mate’s legs, grumbling, “Remind me again, why we’re following your dumbass plan?”

“Because it’s a good plan!”

“Wait. We had a plan?” Tony pushed himself off of the ground, cringing when he reached up with a hand to soothe his pulsating nose.

“Yep!”

Tony placed his left hand on his right shoulder and gave it a few rolls, flinching when it disagreed with a particular angle.

“What exactly _was_ that plan?" he mumbled, sarcasm dripping from his words like molasses, "Other than to get ourselves bent in ways we shouldn’t be bent?”

“None of us wanted to have to walk on eggshells around Nat, so we’re setting things up so that _we_ won’t have to.”

“Then who will?”

“Kid.”

Bruce pressed the elevator button to have it come back down before glancing over at Clint, shaking the first-aid kit in his hands. “Who’s kid? She’s got a kid? And why did I have to bring this up with me?”

Your brother’s eyes brightened at the sight of the metal box and he swiped it out of Bruce’s hands. He pulled Tony over (gaining him a yelp and an annoyed “hey!” when he grabbed and tugged his injured arm) and handed the medical kit to a surprised Bucky, a triumphant smile on his face.

“She doesn’t have a kid, but I do. A kid sibling, that is. Who, coincidentally, is also nicknamed ‘Kid’. As for that stuff, well… Bucky and Tony will be offering to help Kid out. Knowing them, they’re probably bleeding their ass off right about now since they’ve just come from a mission. It’s a little known fact that they can’t go through even the simplest assignment without getting injured in some way or another. It is also another little known fact that Nat hates it when Kid's hurt, becomes overprotective at the prospect of them being harmed. And  _that_ worry will be what keeps her out of our hairs but stuck in theirs.”

Bucky and Tony’s stares went from Clint, to the kit in the soldier’s hands and back to the smug archer. Their eyes were filled with disbelief, remembering the events of only a few minutes ago where the assassin had been a mere second away from snapping their necks and arms. And now they were gonna toy with said alpha.

“This is a terrible plan.”

“I agree with Terminator, I hate this plan.”

Clint just rolled his eyes, “You got a better one?”

“…”

“…”

“Didn’t think so.”

Tony groaned, “…Where’s Thor when you need him?”

 

~~~

 

[Thirty Minutes Later – With Clint]

 

“FRIDAY, how they doing?”

“They are currently resting, Agent Barton.”

Clint cackled, despite his face being buried in the floor’s carpet.

“Got ‘em! After all these years, I finally got them together!”

Steve, looking completely done as he laid on top of him, deadpanned, “You’re a little shit aren’t you, Barton?”

Unfazed, Clint’s grin only increased in size at his words, “Damn right, I am. And I’m PROUD of it!”

It was at this point in time that the elevator doors to the living room opened once more, revealing Wanda and Vision returning from a date, with the Scarlet Witch laughing at something the android said. Well, she was, until she saw the state of the living room. All signs of amusement were drained from their faces as they both stopped right in their tracks.

The bullet-proof windows were cracked, pieces of furniture had been chucked opposite of where they had originally been, and somehow there was a chair imbedded into the ceiling.

Turning to the pile of Avengers tiredly attempting to snooze on the floor, Wanda asked, “What in the world happened here?”

All of them groaned and gave her varying answers.

“Черная вдова.”

“A doll getting her best gal.”

“Legolas had an idea.”

“Looooove!”

Bruce walked out of the kitchen with a mug in hand, prodding the pile with a foot, “Well… technically, none of them are wrong.”

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Didja hate it? Didja like it?
> 
> Please do leave a comment below!
> 
> (Though I hope you don't strive to break this kid's heart...)
> 
> I regret everything.


End file.
